


loving him was red

by acrossthesky_instars



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 22:21:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3745597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acrossthesky_instars/pseuds/acrossthesky_instars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the AU prompt 'I got drunk and sent a sexy pic to my ex but I sent it to you instead by mistake'</p>
            </blockquote>





	loving him was red

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic so pleeeease be gentle with me, and sorry for any mistakes! 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

By the time Octavia got back, tired, grumpy and laden with cheap rum, Clarke was already drunk.

Their front door slammed open to reveal her sprawled lengthways across the sofa, empty wine glass dangling precariously from paint-stained fingers. Her hair was a blonde halo against the dark material, and Octavia’s first thought was that, for someone who was clearly in such a state, it was unfair that she looked so angelic. Her second took note of her wine-stained lips and tear-stained face. Clarke did not cry often, but one thing had seemed to change that lately. Octavia hip-bumped the door back closed and, grabbing the rum, dumped her bags in a heap. The clink of the bottle roused Clarke more than the slamming door, and she stared blearily at the roommate that shoved her legs out of the way and collapsed next to her.

‘God, Clarke, I love you. You totally read my mind’.

Clarke groaned and shuffled to prop herself up on the sofa arm. ‘No mind-reading necessary. Bad day for you too?’

‘You have no idea.’ Octavia was a year younger than Clarke, and still battling with her degree. ‘My Politics tutor told me my approach was too aggressive. Total crap coming from the pansy that can’t even match his tie to his shirt.’

Clarke half-grinned. ‘I think he’s missing something big about politics there, Tav. Don’t worry, you’ll crack him.’

To this, Octavia practically bared her teeth. ‘I plan on it’.

When Clarke didn’t reply, she sighed and handed over the rum. ‘It’s a Tuesday, Clarke, and it’s not even 7. I’m not judging, but do I need to start worrying?’

Her blue eyes flared as she took a clumsy swig, but softened on her roommate. ‘It’s not me you need to worry about.’

Unsurprised, Octavia’s expression turned to one of disgust. ‘Finn again?’

Clarke took another large sip.

‘Come on, Clarke, it’s been months. He’s a dick, you’re not. Fuck the guy.’

Clarke stilled. ‘I saw his girlfriend today, shopping in the supermarket. She was buying his deodorant. Tav, _I_ used to buy that deodorant!’

For a moment, Octavia stared at her friend’s flushed cheeks and the angry set to her chin.

‘Fuck it, let’s get drunk.’

****************

Two and a half hours later, Taylor Swift was blasting through the apartment and the bottle of rum was half empty. Octavia was spinning sloppily in a circle as she sang along.

‘…. weeEEEEE are NEVER, EVER, EVER, getting back together!’

‘Tav, I’m drunk.’

‘I knoooooooooow.’

‘Tav, I need more rum.’

‘Hmmmm.’

‘Tav, can you pass the rum?’

‘Yeah, you’re totally right. Massive dickhead.’

‘Octavia, are you even listening?’

Octavia finally stopped spinning and looked up from her phone. She blushed.

‘Sorry, Clarkey. I was just…’

‘Texting Lincoln, I know. How is it you can multitask so well?’

Octavia’s phone dinged again and her eyebrows quirked as she looked at the message.

‘Ohmygod, Tav, tell me you aren’t sexting him while I’m sitting _right here_.’

The eyebrows slid into a full on smirk. ‘What? He loves me, I love him, and God, the sex is _good_.’

Clarke groaned loudly and smushed her face into the cushion by her head. Her voice when she replied was muffled.

‘I love you, I love Lincoln, and I’m glad you’re happy. But please, for the love of God, no more sex talk for your poor, deprived roommate.’

Sympathy filled Octavia’s eyes, closely followed by mischief. ‘Hey…’

Clarke sat up quickly, ignoring the way her head spun. ‘So not going out tonight, Tav. My PJs love me unconditionally and I’m not prepared to give that up. Not for the hottest man in the bar.’

Octavia pouted. ‘We are Never Getting Back Together’ switched ironically to ‘Better than Revenge’.  Her smirk returned.

‘Come oooooon, Clarkey! Get back on that sexy, sexy horse! Just imagine: tall, sexy stranger…’

‘Is there anything about this that won’t be sexy?’

‘Shhh. Tall, VERY sexy stranger, a large glass of rum- that you definitely didn’t pay for, by the way- and you, flirting madly in your…. Red wine stained bra.’

Clarke pulled a face as she wriggled to examine the stain that had spread through her thin pyjama top. She hadn’t even noticed next to all the paint stains. She’d graduated a few months ago, and she was plunging desperately into her art, unwilling to admit to herself that the reason no painting ever seemed quite good enough was because of her medically-driven mother. Her grin was sloppy but vaguely proud.

Octavia sighed, and then brightened again, quick as an infant. ‘Tomorrow?’

Clarke grumbled. ‘Tav, I’ll be so hungover.’

‘Cl _aaaaa_ rke.’ Her eyes were wide and earnest.

‘ _Fine_. But you’re buying the first round.’

Octavia laughed. ‘Clarke, honey, I’m gonna make it my mission that you won’t be buying any of your rounds.’ When Clarke’s mouth opened as if to protest, she barrelled on. ‘You can be a strong, independent woman that has a drink bought for her, Clarke, don’t worry.’

Clarke giggled. Hearing herself, she realised she must be drunker than she thought. She giggled louder.

Octavia’s message tone went off again and she smiled, her beautiful face open and broadcasting her affection to the people across the street. ‘Um, Clarke, now that’s settled- and you are _definitely_ not going to back out- do you mind if I..’

‘...run off to text your glorious boyfriend?’ Octavia’s face wavered, and Clarke felt a rush of warmth for her friend, who would have tucked her phone away for hours if it meant not hurting her feelings. She knew that, since she’d learnt of her boyfriend Finn’s other girlfriend, she hadn’t been the most fun to be around. Octavia had been great, doling out hugs and ice cream at the same rate as her refusals to let Clarke dwell too long. It’d been too long, Clarke realised, since they’d been out together without drama hanging over them. ‘Tav, it’s fine. I should turn in soon anyway. Seems like I need my beauty sleep for tomorrow now.’

Octavia snorted. ‘Clarke, you’re gorgeous, and you and everyone else knows it. Even my brother...’ She pulled herself up short.

Clarke paused from gathering her various layers and her own phone. ‘Your brother what?’ She tried to keep her expression blank, even though her pulse had spiked suddenly- for no reason at all, she told herself.

She and Octavia’s older brother did not get along, a fact that seemed to bring Octavia no end of glee. She loved Bellamy, but Clarke knew she hadn’t loved the girls that had swarmed her at school in desperate attempts to get closer to him. Ironically, although Clarke firmly denied any interest, Octavia seemed weirdly keen to get the pair of them spending more time together, even though that time tended to descend into petty squabbles. The first time he’d been over for dinner, they’d argued for half an hour about Clarke’s current essay for her Women’s Studies module. Feminist takes on fairy-tales had somehow ended upwith Clarke’s most hated nickname. ‘Princess’ was not a name that she treasured.

It wasn’t that Bellamy wasn’t attractive, it really, _really_ wasn’t. If she was being honest with herself, the first time she saw him, she’d nearly swallowed her tongue. It was when he’d started talking that she’d found it again. His hair looped messily in dark curls around his tanned, golden face, which seemed, annoyingly, to be permanently blemish free, apart from the smattering of freckles softening his cheekbones and strong nose. (Her father used to call freckles skin constellations, and trace the few that decorated her arms. Bellamy Blake or no, anything that her father loved acted as a ringing endorsement). He was taller, significantly taller than her, and muscled in a way that spoke of fit leanness but not excessive bulk.

He was, undoubtedly, quite the package. But Clarke saw none of this- relatively speaking- when she saw his eyes. She was an artist, dabbled in paint and people-watching everyday, but Bellamy Blake’s was an eye colour she didn’t think she’d ever be able to recreate. Sealed off, yet warm, dark but gleaming (when he looked at her at least), hooded, but seeing into every part of her. Bellamy was a man who felt, and it was his eyes that showed this. And, although Clarke could deny everything else about how she responded to him, she could not deny what she saw, and how she felt, when his eyes drew her in.

But he was a dick. A fact that Clarke repeated to herself as she breathed through her nose, trying to slow her stupid, traitorous pulse. Octavia had a suspicious glint in her eye that Clarke didn’t exactly like.

‘Oh, nothing,’ she said breezily. ‘Just, even _I_ can see that my brother knows _exactly_ how gorgeous you are.’

Clarke opened her mouth, a part of her that was larger than she wanted to admit clamouring to know _how_ Octavia professed to know this, but the other part of her stepped in when it saw how Octavia leaned forward on the balls of her feet, practically gleaming with mischief and triumph. So, she shrugged and stood.

‘Suit yourself. Go, be lovey dovey in your room where I can’t be devoured by jealousy. Bellamy Blake is the last person I want to look at me that way anyway.’

With that, she bid goodnight to her roommate, and swept into her room.

Her last words might not be famous, but they turned out to be pretty ironic all the same.

****************

Obviously thanks only to her dramatic exit, Clarke’d somehow managed to swipe the last of the rum on her way out, and she lay on her bed, halfway between taking her make-up off, and had, what seemed to her drunken mind, the _best_ idea.

(It wasn’t.)

 _Why not_ , she thought to herself, _do exactly what Octavia is?_

After all, Octavia’d just been complimenting her on her appearance, and she _was_ drunk enough for pretty much anything that got back at Finn to seem like a good idea.

Clarke leapt to her feet, and tugged her pyjama top over her head. As she wriggled out of the bottoms, she graciously kicked the floor area behind her clean. _After all_ , _nothing takes away from a sexy photo like a messy room_. Disconcerted and vaguely disgusted that the voice in her head sounded too much like her mother’s, Clarke shook it away.

She grabbed her phone, and switched to the camera setting, stumbling a little over the buttons. Technology had never been her strong point, and the fancy settings Octavia had added to her iPhone only confused her drunken mind. Satisfied, she held the phone at a flattering angle near her chin (Octavia had taught her a little something about the art of selfie-ing), struck what she hoped was a sexy pose, and snapped the shot. It was only when she brought the phone down for a closer look and heard her own heavy breathing repeated back to her that she realised she’d videoed herself instead.

She giggled, but then stopped thoughtfully. Octavia had been trying to make a point about the burgundy stain on her white cotton bra, and her underwear didn’t exactly match. Rummaging in her underwear drawer didn’t yield any rewards; it was when Taylor Swift, still crooning away next door, started singing ‘Red’ that she remembered the flyaway gift Octavia had given her months ago. The Victoria Secret bag had been tucked away in the back of her wardrobe when things ended with Finn; she’d had no desire to think about lingerie he might’ve seen had things not turned out the way they had. But now, the matching lacy red bra and matching knickers seemed nothing short of perfect.

Clarke shoved aside the pretty pink tissue paper and carefully stepped into the underwear, inordinately proud of herself for remembering to pull off the tags and toss them away. When she inspected herself in the mirror, she felt instantly better.

 _You know what_ , she thought to herself, _Octavia wasn’t wrong. Damn right, I’m a catch. And Finn Collins is going to rue the day he ever forgot that._

She snapped a picture of her scantily clad body without her face- successfully this time- and checked it briefly but approvingly before attaching it to a message. God, was it just her or did the little icons keep moving? She could barely even read the words.

It was just then that Octavia bellowed from her own room- ‘Clarke, would you shut off that bloody Taylor Swift?’- prompting Clarke to hastily press a few buttons to send the picture out into the universe and run back into the living room.

 _There_ , she thought triumphantly, _that’ll teach him_.

***********

When Clarke’s alarm went off the next morning, her body made her instantly regret every choice she’d made the night before. Mixing rum and red wine had not been her smartest move.

She stumbled out of bed, still wobbling on her feet, and crashed into the kitchen, grabbing clumsily for the coffee she really hoped would start to revive her.

It was only when she heard Octavia purr loudly that she realised what she was still wearing.

‘Holy hell, Clarke. Please tell me that’s what you’re wearing for Mystery Lover tonight.’

It took a second for what Octavia was saying to register, and another for her not-so-thought-through decisions from last night to filter through.

‘Oh my god.’ She sat down heavily on her stool.

Octavia looked up again from where she was pouring them both a coffee, startled.

‘Clarke? What’s up?’

‘God, Tav, I think I’ve done something really, really stupid. Like, really stupid.’

Octavia leaned forward over the breakfast bar, grinning. She sighed happily, ‘Oh Clarkey, I really love waking up to you saying interesting things like that. What did you do?’

Clarke thumped her head down onto the counter, then rethought it and dragged her coffee over instead. ‘So last night, after we went to bed, I was thinking about Finn’- at this, Octavia grunted irritably and Clarke shushed her with a pointed glare- ‘let me finish. I was thinking about Finn, and what you were saying about texting Lincoln, and I kind of got this crazy idea in my head to send a text to Finn. With a photo. Of me. In my underwear.’ The last bit came out in a rush.

There was a moment of silence, and then Octavia burst out laughing.

‘Oh, my god, Clarke! That is… so funny’ she gasped out between snorts that somehow she made seem cute, ‘I’m so proud. I mean, be careful who you send these things too, jeez, but I assume you kept your face out of it and focused on the hot bod?’ When Clarke gave a small, miserable nod, her grin widened. ‘Good. Hey, don’t look so miserable. It’s not the worst thing; at least he’ll know exactly what he’s missing out on- which is a lot by the way. Has he replied?’

‘I haven’t checked,’ Clarke replied glumly. Octavia was already halfway across the room in search of her phone before she’d swallowed the next sip of coffee.

She came back more slowly, swiping rapidly on the screen. There was a pause, and she frowned.

‘Clarke, the only text you sent last night was to my brother.’

Clarke shot to her feet, and grabbed the phone, her heart suddenly pounding. ‘What?’

Octavia angled the phone in her direction so they could both see. Clarke focused, and saw texts from a few months ago about picking Octavia up from the airport, and then last night, an undeniable shot of her body, all trussed up in her red lingerie, with the caption: ‘Yoo dnt evem kno whatt you missiNG’.

‘Nice typing,’ Octavia smirked, but Clarke wasn’t listening, because right at the top of the screen, the name ‘Bellamy Blake’ signified her complete shame.

She groaned and sank to the floor. Octavia looked down at her and shrugged. She was unworried by the _total and complete disaster_ that was Clarke’s life.

‘Oh my god,’ Clarke groaned, ‘this is even worse than I thought.’

Octavia’s eyes sparked, and Clarke knew she was enjoying this. ‘What’s worse about sending this to my brother? He wouldn’t do anything with it or anything, and let’s be honest, he’s more trustworthy than Finn’.

Clarke only moaned louder.

‘Besides,’ Octavia continued, ‘I don’t even think this is his number anymore. He probably would have replied by now, so maybe it just hasn’t gone through.’

Clarke perked up at that, but Octavia wouldn’t quite meet her eyes full on. She looked at her watch instead.

‘Crap, sorry Clarke, I’ve got to move. Got a 9am class today and I said I’d meet my friend before to swap some notes. Hey, don’t panic about the photo, I’m sure it’ll be fine. We’ll talk about it later anyway.’

As she walked out of the room, she glanced back over her shoulder and winked, ‘And at least you were wearing that sexy as hell underwear!’

***************

Clarke was feeling much more relaxed about the whole fiasco a few hours, a hot shower and a raiding of Octavia’s wardrobe later. The drink in her hand sure wasn’t making things worse either.

When Octavia got back from her classes, and Clarke had given up on work for the day, they’d spent a casual few hours primping and polishing themselves for the night ahead. Octavia looked stunning in a tight, high-necked but low-backed, short black dress that she’d matched with her studded bracelet, killer heels and eye make-up so dramatic that her winged eyeliner almost had the look of war paint. She looked fantastic, and absolutely killed it, and Clarke was only a little envious of her ability to pull off such an incredible look. To be fair, she’d been helped by Octavia’s insistence on doing her hair and make up for her, adding a touch of sparkle and bright red lipstick to her face, and sweeping her hair up into a pretty updo that looked effortless but Clarke knew she’d never in a million years be able to recreate for herself. Both matched the dress she wore, also borrowed from Octavia. It was white and short- short enough that she kept wanting to tug the hem a little lower- with thin spaghetti straps lined with gold, a sweeping neckline and, although it clung to her chest and waist, it floated prettily around her hips in a shimmer of white and gold. Paired with her own gold heels, her and Octavia looked like the complete antithesis of each other- one dark and intensely sexy and one white and golden and angelic. Both dressed to kill.

Clarke’s only real contribution to the outfit was her underwear; she refused to wear the lingerie from the night before, not the least because it would show beneath the thin material of her dress, but because she didn’t want to think about the photo, or Bellamy Blake for that matter. Her stained white bra made her feel more like herself, and that was all the confidence boost she needed tonight.

The bar Octavia had brought her to was busy, full of the pretty young things of the city and brought to life with the clinking of classes, the sound of laughter and the bass of the music thumping through the air. Clarke could feel herself relax as she sat at a small table waiting for Octavia to bring over their shots; here, she could be whoever she wanted, not Finn’s ‘other woman’, not the girl who’d accidentally sent a drunken sexy photo to her best friends gorgeous older brother, but just her, just Clarke. Octavia was right- it had been far too long since they’d done this, and it was exactly what she needed.

Octavia appeared through the crowd, holding aloft two clear shots. ‘Vodka’, she said as a greeting when she reached Clarke, ‘here’s to a great night, greater friends and the sexier side of my roommate!’

Clarke laughed, and it was only when she tossed the shot back that she could have sworn she heard Octavia mutter, ‘and my brother.’

And then, to Clarke’s complete despair, as if conjured out of smoke, the crowd seemed to part, and she locked eyes with none other than Bellamy Blake, leaning casually on the bar and smirking as if he knew _exactly_ what that look did to her knees, and _exactly_ what she looked like without her clothes on. Which, Clarke realised, he probably did.

‘Octavia,’ Clarke growled, ‘please, for the love of all that’s holy and the sacred nature of our friendship, tell me you didn’t invite your brother here tonight.’

Octavia merely watched her over the rim of the shot glass still poised at her lips, her eyes innocent and beguiling. ‘Me? Of course not, Clarke! I know how you feel about him.’

Clarke narrowed her eyes at her, but her attention was temporarily diverted when her peripherals picked up Bellamy’s movement that, alarmingly, seemed to be in their direction. She cursed internally at her eyes for tracking him so, and at her heart for picking up in time with his approach. She focused intently on the table top, and her tightly clasped fingers, as if they held the secrets of the universe. Or at least the secrets of Bellamy Blake.

She knew instantly when he’d reached them, because her body felt his heat tantalising her bare shoulders, smelt his spicy, clean smell and treacherously wanted to lean in closer.

‘Octavia,’ his deep voice rumbled through her like she was a flimsy piece of paper shaking in the wind. It was worse when he said ‘Clarke’, and she was glad she was sitting down. _Get it together, Griffin_.

She steeled herself and looked up, deliberately skirting around his eyes.

 _Jesus,_ Clarke thought, _I could seriously cut myself on your cheekbones._ Then she cursed again, _Christ, now I’m a cliché._ She half-registered him side-hugging his sister as she greeted him, but gave herself a little, get-with-it shake when his laughing eyes fell on her again.

‘Blake,’ she said nonchalantly. _That’s it, keep it cool, You’ve got this._ ‘What brings you here?’

His lips quirked in a half smile that was more of a smirk and she watched as his eyes scanned down her body and back up again, taking her in. Her skin felt like it was burning in the path of his eyes.

‘This is my haunt, actually, _Griffin_. I recommended that O come the other week, never thought she’d actually risk being seen with her embarrassing older brother though.’ At that, he turned to Octavia and winked and she shoved him lightly.

‘Shut up, Bell. Besides, I’ve invited Lincoln to come along in a bit and I thought you guys could meet. _If_ , and I mean if, you can promise to behave for five minutes. I really don’t want you scaring this one away.’ She bit her lip, and, for a brief moment, Clarke could glimpse the little girl that Bellamy had so lovingly raised beneath her careful make-up.

Bellamy snorted, ‘Aren’t I always on my best behaviour with you, O?’

Now it was Clarke’s turn to snort, although she regretted it when he turned the full force of his gaze back onto her. Suddenly, Clarke was simultaneously aware of how it felt to be a woman under that pull and of the other women who clearly felt the same, hovering nearby and sneaking glances not-so-surreptitiously at him. He did look good, Clarke had to admit, in fitted dark jeans and matching jumper, thin enough to hint at the muscle tone hidden away underneath.

‘Something to say, Griffin? I bet you aren’t always so squeaky clean yourself, are you Princess? Is there a _bad_ side in there somewhere?’

His eyes laughed at her, and her hackles rose instantly in awareness of just what he was referring to. It seemed he had got her photo last night. Clarke felt a wave of embarrassment, but it disintegrated quickly, shoved to the side by her annoyance at his arrogance. She got to her feet and glanced at Octavia.

‘Oh, I’ve been known to break a few rules’- she let a little smirk play on her lips as she looked him up and down- ‘but there are some levels I just wouldn’t sink to. Come on, Tav, let’s dance.’

Even though she watched Octavia stand, she knew his expression didn’t falter. ‘Whatever you say, Princess. We both know exactly what you want to sink your teeth into. See you later, O.’

She felt a flush spread through her at his words, and the images he conjured. The bastard, he turned and walked away before she could have the satisfaction. She didn’t even want to acknowledge the state he left her in.

The dance floor was cramped and hot, packed with sweaty dancers, and it was exactly what she needed to take her mind off other hot, sweaty things. She and Octavia danced close by, throwing their heads back to the music and letting themselves get carried away by the beat.

It was when Lincoln arrived that Clarke started to feel like a bit of a spare part. She hadn’t minded the grinding couples around her when she had Octavia, but now her friend was one of them she felt more awkward. She loved her friend, but there were some things you just couldn’t un-see. And Octavia (and Lincoln, apparently) did not hold back.

She caught Octavia’s eyes and gestured that she was going to get a drink, but as she reached the edge of the dancefloor, her eyes fell on two people who had just arrived at the bar. Her steps faltered as she scanned the familiar beautiful, long-legged girl stood next to the complete idiot who was the reason behind the bin full of empty ice-cream tubs a few months ago. _Why the hell was Finn here now? I must have been a wasp in a past life_. Her heart stuttered unpleasantly and her mouth dried up.

Then the strangest thing happened, and Bellamy appeared out of the blur of people, took one look at her face and touched her hand. Too stunned to say anything, she stood stock still as he bent closer and kissed her lightly on the cheek, exactly as she made eye contact with Finn. His eyes narrowed on the man next to her, the man who stole all of Clarke’s attention the moment she felt his breath on her neck.

‘Don’t look so upset. I take it that’s the dickhead ex? Don’t be mad, O told me.’ When she nodded, he leaned infinitesimally closer and continued, ‘Okay. I’m going to take you to dance now. Bastard really should know what he’s missing.’

Clarke let the reference to her text slide in the face of the realisation that he was trying to help her, and regardless of whether it worked or not, his hand sparked against hers and her neck tingled deliciously from his warm breath. She let him pull her a bit further onto the dance floor, where they weren’t obviously parading but could still be seen by determined eyes at the bar.

His hand slid from hers onto her hip and he pulled her closer, swirling his in a small circle in a gentle encouragement to relax. She raised her eyes to his, and this time, when she met them, it wasn’t frustration that filled her, but comfort and confidence, and she nudged an escaped lock of hair away from her face with a grateful smile, lifting her hand in the air.

The music was loud and it hummed through her belly like her awareness of her dancing partner. She couldn’t quite lose herself to the music like she’d been able to with Octavia, but their locked eyes gave her a kind of confidence that meant she didn’t need to, and his hands slipping up her waist made her feel strong. She moved her body to the beat as it was meant to, and Bellamy’s intense gaze held nothing but an approval that warmed her from the inside out. She let the arm she’d raised in the air drift down to tangle in the damp hair at the base of his neck, and she watched his eyes darken further as his pupils dilated.

She’d wanted to use that moment to turn around to see if Finn was still watching, but nobody else’s eyes seemed that important anymore. She turned round all the same, and Bellamy let his hands trail over her stomach until he pressed her back into him, curving his body around hers and syncing their hips to the music. She tipped her head back to fall on his shoulder and almost jumped- or moaned, she wasn’t sure which- when she felt his lips trace a delicate path over her neck.

Her eyes closed, but the lights still flashed from behind her closed eyelids, and Bellamy’s heat still stroked through her. His scent enclosed the both of them as she ground softly against him- she’d never thought she’d be one of those couples, but suddenly she couldn’t seem to help herself. Finn, and the dancers around her- which, _God_ , included Octavia- had fallen away, and nothing else seemed to matter but getting closer to Bellamy, and staying there. One song bled into the next, and all Clarke could think was that Finn, or any of her previous boyfriends, had never made her feel the way Bellamy was making her feel with a single dance, as if she was both the most precious thing on earth and forged out of a fire that he wanted desperately to coax out of her.

‘I think-‘ his voice faltered, ‘I think dickhead’s gone now, Princess.’ For the first time, Princess no longer sounded like the insult it had been, but like the best name she’d ever heard in her life. She barely even registered his words. His breath stirred her sensitive skin again and she couldn’t help a small moan, knowing Bellamy could hear her.

‘Christ, Clarke, don’t do that.’ Despite his words, he tightened his grip and yanked her closer to him. She could feel every inch of him pressed against her- and she meant every inch- and she loved it. ‘How did I ever let you dance with anyone other than me?’

For a second, all Clarke felt was warmth and desire at his words but then his meaning hit her and, as much as her body cried out, she stepped away. When she looked back at Bellamy, his chest was rising and falling rapidly and he was breathing as heavily as her.

‘I’m just going to… going to the bathroom. I’ll be back in a moment.’ She cursed herself for adding the last bit; she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to face him again, saviour or no.

She shoved through the crowd until she got to the toilet, and she splashed her cheeks with cold water as if to wash off the flush on them, mindful of her make-up. Her eyes looked almost delirious with desire and she hardly recognised the look. _How had Bellamy Blake done this to her? And why did she already want more?_

Stood in the bathroom, facing herself head on, Clarke couldn’t deny quite how much she wanted to go back out there and let Bellamy drag her home and do every wicked thing to her that the pair of them could think of. But the fact remained that, despite their bickering, he hadn’t hesitated to come to her aid in there as soon as he saw that she was upset. His intentions had been kind, and it was that that shook her more than anything. Bellamy Blake had a heart- a big one if Octavia was anything to go by- and he had just shown it to her. And damn, if it wasn’t the most attractive thing about him.

With one last glance in the mirror, and a quick pat to smooth down her hair where Bellamy had rucked it up- _Jesus_ \- she steeled herself and marched out of the bathroom. She’d barely taken a few steps before a hand clamped around her arm and pulled her off further down the dark corridor. The static along her skin reassured her, and she didn’t try to fight as Bellamy tugged her into what could have been a storage cupboard or anything for all Clarke cared.

Before she could breathe a word, he’d shut the door behind them and slammed her back up against it so she was trapped between it and his hot, hard body. His lips crashed onto hers with the same force and her body reacted before she could, sighing her mouth open so his tongue could sweep in. She only had time to think _Oh God_ , then _Thank God_ then _we kiss like we fight_ before her mind totally collapsed in on itself and she couldn’t think about anything other than the taste of his whiskey on her tongue and his talented, talented mouth pressed against hers and, _jesus_ , the feel of his soft lower lip when her teeth bit down on it, hard. This time, when he moaned, she felt it vibrate through the both of them, and she relished it.

Her fingers didn’t hesitate to slide back into his wild curls and she pulled lightly- he lifted his head to look at her for only a moment, his pupils completely blown, his lips wonderfully swollen and his freckles, god, they beat every star in the sky for her in that moment.

‘Clarke, I, I, don’t want to stop…’

She held him fiercely to her. ‘Who says you have to?’ And his lips were back on hers, soothing away the ache she felt from their distance.

His hands curved down the length of her back until he gripped her thighs. She took the hint and wrapped them tightly around his trim waist when he lifted her, so he was stood exactly where they both wanted him to be. Her dress racked up around her waist and his hands and she couldn’t bring herself to care.

A thought occurred to her and she tore herself away. ‘Are we allowed to be in here? Will someone walk in?’

He chuckled into her shoulder and she shivered. ‘Don’t worry, my friend Miller owns this place, we’re fine.’ He kissed up her neck, and drew his nose along her jaw until she moaned breathily and she felt him smile against her.

He paused, and his eyes were so earnest and so like his sisters that she could not help but fall into them.

‘Clarke, I didn’t mean...’

‘Don’t you dare apologise,’ she all but growled at him, and finally, _finally_ traced her fingers along his cheeks and tapped the constellations across them. ‘You saved me tonight, and I should be thanking you. I _am_ thanking you.’

He grinned and she felt it in her knees, among other places. She stubbornly refused to admit her heart was one of them.

‘Sweetheart, I would have done anything for you after that picture you sent me last night.’

Like a bucket of cold water, reality hit Clarke; she would have let her legs drop had Bellamy not been holding her so tightly. The knowledge that he refused to let her go infuriated and electrified her in equal measure.

‘I sent that by accident! I was drunk, for God’s sake!’

‘Princess, I couldn’t care less how you sent it, I’m only glad you did. Octavia spoke to me earlier and explained about the Dickhead- you don’t have to say anything. Besides, I’ve been wondering what you’d look like in an outfit like that for a long time, and you just blew every fantasy I’ve ever had out of the water.’

Clarke blushed and ignored the rush she felt hearing that he’d fantasised about her too. ‘I’d hardly call it an outfit.’

He smirked, and this time, she loved it. ‘Whatever you’d call it, it’s my new favourite thing. You look absolutely beautiful tonight- like an angel not a Princess- but I’ve got to say the underwear wins.’ He tugged at her strap, and the callouses on his fingers gave her goosebumps. ‘Kind of gutted you aren’t wearing it right now, actually.’

Clarke knew she was poised on the edge right then, and she knew exactly which way she was going to fall.

‘You can come and watch me put it on again if you’d like?’

The fire flaring in his eyes and his hard kiss were all the answer she needed.

***************************

She hadn’t needed to tell Octavia what was happening, the girl seemed to already know, and she’d looked exceptionally smug as she’d watched her two favourite people leave together.

By the time they’d got back to Clarke’s apartment, she was convinced she’d never made a better decision in her life. This was something confirmed by the feel of Bellamy’s lips on hers, his hot, smooth muscles sliding against her bare skin and by his smile, when she finally let her dress fall.

It was confirmed when his eyes sparked when he saw the stain on her simple white bra, and he spoke.

‘I take back what I said. This is the most beautiful you’ve ever been, stood in front of me right now.’

Clarke had never been called beautiful by a boy before, and she couldn’t deny the way it made her feel when Bellamy had said it, twice in one night, like she could touch the stars if she wanted to (and not just the ones dusting his cheeks).

He winked at her, and somehow it didn’t seem corny. ‘Covered in stains and marks seems more you anyway.’ It was when he said this that she realised exactly how well he knew her, and how well he understood her, and exactly what they’d both been missing out on all that time bickering and not capitalising on what was apparently some seriously incredible sexual tension.

But his face was genuine and sincere when he looked up at her from beneath long, dark lashes. ‘You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this, Princess. How long I’ve wanted you.’

She smiled and reached for him. ‘It’s a relief to hear I’m not the only one.’

His grin was beautiful, and so was her realisation that, this time, when they kissed, they’d moved on from fighting to something even better.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm here-isthedeepestsecret on tumblr, come say hi! :)


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